


Backwards Attraction

by brooklinegirl



Category: The OC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-04
Updated: 2012-01-04
Packaged: 2017-10-28 20:57:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/312113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brooklinegirl/pseuds/brooklinegirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the boxathon prompt: Seth thinks it's probably not a good thing that Ryan looks so appealing to him when he's all beaten up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Backwards Attraction

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you to mrsronweasley and kristiinthedark for super fast, spectacular betas, both of you!

The first time it happened was – well, it was the first time Seth actually saw Ryan, looking uncomfortable and tired, the bruise on his cheek dark in the morning light. Seth's pulse picked up, but that was probably just due to the effects of Grand Theft Auto on his brain processes – his mom was always warning him that too much video game playing would take its toll.

And that would have been fine, that would have been totally cool, only it wasn't the only time. It wasn't anywhere near the only time. It happened pretty much every time Ryan got into a fistfight and came home bruised, which was kind of a lot.

The thing was, Seth told himself, mostly it was just that Ryan was cool. Ryan was the type of cool that made you want to be near him – or maybe sometimes just _be_ him, be just like him, laid back without even trying, able to say more with a single raised eyebrow than Seth could ever say in five minutes of that high-speed babbling that he had long ago accepted he had very little actual control over.

That was it. Mostly. You couldn’t blame him for it – that night on the beach, despite anything else, Ryan had Seth's back. They fought the whole lacrosse team on the beach together and there was just something about that that got a guy going. You saw it all the time in movies and TV – Butch and Sundance. Starsky and Hutch. Kirk and Spock. Whateaver. It was something about going up against the bad guy and winning – the homoerotic tension wasn't even a little bit Seth's fault and you could not blame him for it.

Lying there still drunk on the couch in the pool house, he asked Ryan about Summer with his eyes shut to keep himself from asking something else. Like if that – new – bruise on Ryan's face hurt. Like if Seth could touch it just for a second, trace the edges of it and see if Ryan would wince, or if he would keep stolid and sedate the way he did, the mask falling down, making him into something he was not, keeping everything in.

It wasn't until the next time that he let himself call it what it was: a problem. After the scuffle with Luke, Ryan came home with yet another bruise on his face – before the old ones had finished healing, were still faded shades of blue and gray on his cheek. Seth followed Ryan as he walked to the pool house, moving like his bones ached. Like maybe all of this – the fight of being here, the fight of not fitting in, the fight of throwing punches instead of giving in – was too much for him. And Seth could understand that – Seth of all people _totally_ got that. That was what Seth was all about – not fitting in no matter what. He and Ryan, they were on the exact same wavelength here.

Seth's pulse was high again, and his face felt weird and flushed – he could _feel_ the heat in his cheeks and the bright blue water of the pool looked cool and welcoming, like if he could dunk his face in for just a second, it would sizzle and bubble like some scene in a cartoon.

He filled in the silence without thinking, couldn't stop talking if he tried. "You know, sometimes, I go a whole day without getting in a fistfight. It's surprising, I know, yet true."

Ryan didn't respond, but he didn't shut the pool house door behind him, either, so Seth took that as a welcome and followed Ryan in. "I can see that that is not how you roll, however." He paused, and thoughtfully pulled the door closed behind them. "You are a man of actions, not words."

Ryan was tugging his shirt off over his head, leaving him in his wifebeater and jeans, before flopping back on the bed with his eyes closed. The wifebeater was rucked up a little bit over his stomach.

Seth swallowed, and dragged his gaze up to Ryan's face. The bruises were coming in dark - around his left eye, and low on his cheek. "Yeah, it's all becoming clear to me now," Seth persisted without even trying, mostly without even knowing what exactly it was he was saying. He was hard and it didn't matter where he looked, because for some reason the bruise on Ryan's face was turning him on harder, even, than the pale line of his stomach visible along the waist of his jeans.

Seth didn't even know what to _do_ with that. Except, apparently, talk more. And louder.

"You think I don't see things, but I do." His mouth was so dry; when did it get so _dry_ in here? He was pacing, kicking the floats out of the way, throwing punches at the neatly rolled-up towels on the shelf, not looking at Ryan. Not thinking about Ryan. Not thinking about Ryan and how his pulse must be beating in the bruise on his cheek – Seth knew how it felt now; Seth had felt that himself, after that first fight on the beach, and something about the ache had felt good, then, this sort of reminder of adrenaline and power.

He was really, really hard. Like, fantastically so.

Ryan shifted on the bed, and Seth frantically drew his attention back to where he was, what he was doing. Which was standing there at the foot of Ryan's bed, watching him as Ryan rubbed both hands tiredly over his face, his eyes closed. "Seth."

"Yep!" Seth said almost before Ryan had his name out. For lo, he was a loser.

"Settle, will you?" Ryan said.

"Right." Seth dropped to sit on the foot of the bed too quickly, his legs pretty much going out from under him. "Right. Settle. I can do that. I'm settled." He patted both hands on his thighs to show how settled he was. "All set here."

Ryan groaned and rolled over, burying his face in the pillow for a second before pulling back with a wince. He rested his head carefully to the side without the bruise, blinking slowly at Seth.

Seth wasn't settled. Seth was anything but settled. Seth was a _mess_ \- jittery and wound up and still hard and sitting on Ryan's bed with Ryan sprawled right there next to him. On his stomach now, looking at Seth over his shoulder with those eyes that were – okay, fine, Seth could say it, that were _smoldering_ , like you saw in the old movies. Only they probably weren't. Ryan was probably tired and, you know, in pain, and what he was giving Seth wasn't a smoldering look, it was a "I have a headache and you talk too much" look.

Which Seth got kind of a lot.

Right. Seth sat on his hands and determinedly closed his mouth, going for calm and quiet.

Silence held for a handful of seconds, then Ryan said, "Seth. You look like a mental patient. _Relax_."

Seth smiled tightly – mouth closed! Quiet! – and nodded several times in a row to show that yes! He was relaxed! Right here!

Only – Ryan's face, all bruised up and tired, was making Seth's heart beat so hard it felt like it was going to burst out of his chest.

Ryan pushed himself up on one elbow and Seth jumped. "What?"

Ryan didn't say anything, was just studying Seth's face. "Seth," he said finally, quietly, and – Seth really didn't know what happened. He really honest to god didn't remember ever making a decision, ever even moving, but he must have, he had to have, because he was scooting up the bed, was pushing back on Ryan's shoulder so that he fell backwards onto his elbows, and Seth was – oh, this was so not good – leaning close and reaching out to trace the bruise, darkening to blue now, right there on Ryan's cheek.

Like this was okay. Like this was something they did in, like, reality, and not just in the funtime imaginary world of Seth's late-night jerk-off sessions. Like Ryan was just going to let him do this.

Only…Ryan was just letting him do this. Ryan wasn't moving, was tense and still underneath Seth's hand – oh, Christ, one hand was resting on Ryan's chest, not pinning him in place but just kind of holding him there and Seth knew he should take it away, but he just _didn't_. Ryan's eyes were closed and his head was back and he was letting Seth do this.

Seth took in a strangled breath – seriously, he was going to asphyxiate before anything else here – and moved his hand to gently touch the fading bruise on Ryan's other cheek – the bruise Seth was pretty sure Luke had put there a couple of nights ago on the beach. Even though Seth had been upside down at the time it happened, so it was hard to be sure, what with perspective and all.

Ryan, his eyes still closed, reached up and wrapped his hand around Seth's wrist. Seth froze, but Ryan wasn't pulling him away or pushing him off, he was just holding onto Seth in this strong, warm grip that wasn't doing _anything_ to make Seth's hard-on go away. Jesus, he was so hard he couldn't see straight, he was _shaking_ with it, and the only thing he could do was to bite his lip and press down lightly on the bruise on Ryan's face.

Ryan's eyes opened suddenly, and Seth hadn't actually realized how close he'd moved to Ryan, and also there was the fact that this was the longest time he had actually ever stopped talking in pretty much ever. They were side by side on the bed, facing each other, inches away, and Seth had his hand on Ryan's face, and Ryan had his hand wrapped around Seth's wrist, and Seth thought, _oh, fuck_ just before he leaned in and kissed Ryan.

Because really, if anyone knew how to take things to a _more_ humiliating level, it was Mr. Seth Cohen, and no one could beat him.

It was fumbling and stupid and he only actually half hit the target of Ryan's mouth. And when he pulled away, Ryan blinked his eyes open and said, "Jesus, Seth."

But hey, by that point, Seth had his hard-on pressed up against Ryan's thigh, so really, things couldn't _get_ more humiliating. "Sorry," he said, quick and breathless and still really far too close to Ryan's face. "Sorry, I just – maybe had some sort of brain aneurism. Is the thing."

Ryan smiled this sort of crooked smile that made Seth – oh, look, things _could_ get more humiliating. Who knew! – helplessly press harder against Ryan's leg. "Okay."

Okay. What did okay mean? Seth knew this one, really, and he was going to just parse it out, he really was, as soon as he could stop humping up against Ryan, he really was. Because "okay" could mean any number of things and "keep doing that" was probably pretty far down on the list. Right.

Only Ryan was lying back, and he was still holding onto Seth's wrist, and Seth was moving forward – god, he wanted to climb Ryan like a _tree_ \- and when he awkwardly slid up against Ryan, Ryan took in a quick, sharp breath and put his hand on the back of Seth's neck, and then they were kissing. Again. Kissing _again_ , because they had done it before, and they were doing it again, so maybe this was something they just _did_ , now.

Ryan was driving this one, though, and Ryan knew what he was doing. Ryan had clearly done this before, which was not actually something Seth could say. This kiss was smooth and hot and Ryan had his _tongue_ in Seth's mouth and Seth _was_ , apparently, actually climbing Ryan. Like a tree. He was half on top of him, had slid his thigh between Ryan's legs and had it snug up against – oh. Ryan was hard, too. Ryan was hard and his hips were moving up against Seth's, and Seth was, well, pretty much just trying to _keep up_ , here.

"Wait," Ryan said up against Seth's mouth, and Seth pulled back immediately.

"Sorry! What? Waiting. Right." Waiting. He could wait. This was fine. He wasn't going to die or anything, except for maybe how he was.

"Come here." Ryan was looking up at him, his hair out of place, his mouth red from kissing, his face flushed and bruised. "Come here, okay?"

He was tugging on Seth's wrist and Seth said, "Yes. Okay. Where now?" right before Ryan pressed Seth's hand right against the front of Ryan's jeans. "Oh. There." And Ryan? Was _really hard_ and Seth could barely draw in a breath, because it was the best thing ever, it really was.

Before his brain could catch up with matters, here, Seth was fumbling open the button on Ryan's jeans and dragging down the zipper, and oh – oh. Of course Ryan went commando. Of fucking course. "Okay, then," Seth managed, and wrapped his hand around Ryan's hard cock, because there was nothing else in the world he wanted to do right now, and if Ryan wasn't stopping him, than Seth possessed nothing like the will it would have taken to stop himself.

Ryan groaned, and it sounded really loud in the quiet of the pool house, and Seth said quickly, "I don't actually know what I'm doing, here, just so you know."

"Move your hand," Ryan said, slow and distinct, sounding like he was drunk. "Move your – "

"Right," Seth said, moving his hand. "Right, I'll –" He stroked Ryan, pressing himself hard against Ryan's thigh as he did so. Because Ryan was gasping quietly now, and he was arched back a little, with his wifebeater pushed up and his cock curving out of the V of his jeans and he looked like porn, is what he looked like, and Seth was very seriously going to stroke out here. Like, have a heart attack and _die_ right here in the pool house, before he ever even had a chance to come.

"God," Ryan said breathlessly, "You –" And he shook and came all over his stomach, all over Seth's hand.

Which was when Seth came in his pants, making way too much noise and burying his face in Ryan's shoulder.

Way, way before Seth had his brain cells in any kind of working order, Ryan was shaking him, pressing him up and off, saying, "Seth, come on, seriously – " And more stuff that Seth was sure were words, only he was floating in such a happy, fuzzy, blissed-out world that he couldn't quite put it all together, until Ryan said, sharply, "Dude, your _mom_ is home."

"Right. My mom. Oh god, my _mom_." Seth shoved himself upright. Sunlight was pouring in through the oh-so-uncurtained floor-to-ceiling pool house windows and Seth shuddered, thanking God and any other deity that was listening that no one had walked in. Or seen. He hoped. Right? He heaved himself to his feet and peered anxiously out the windows. Right. Sure.

He looked over at Ryan. "You let me do that when my _mom_ was home."

Ryan, who had pulled himself together neat as could be, even his hair all in the right place, gave him that crooked smile. "Yeah."

The sun was going down over the infinity pool and Ryan was half in shadow, now. "You let me do that at _all_ ," Seth pointed out, just in case Ryan was missing that particular point now.

Ryan ran one hand through his – perfect – hair. "Yeah," he said, tilting his head to one side.

Seth waited a handful of beats, trying like hell to pull himself together here and not ask the thing he was - "Would you let me do that again?"

Ryan's eyes were really dark when he looked up at Seth through his eyelashes. "Yeah."

Seth's chest was really tight and he was maybe getting hard again, already. "Yeah. Okay, good, right." Because – yeah.

the end


End file.
